Desperado
by ElfineStarkadder
Summary: A pirate ship, a red-haired boy who knows magic, a shadowy-eyed girl, an attractive captain, a secret treasure, a great many islands, and a good deal of stardust thrown in. This is the world of Desperado. Inspired by Snow White, as well as Donizetti's opera "Daughter of the Regiment".
1. Prologue Captain Sashay

PART ONE: THE DAWN

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Prologue: I'll Find Him

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A man's thin, oily fingers touch the tabletop lightly as he talks. Voice whining.

"I saw his ship go down that day. Sad. Sad."

The girl's shadowy eyes blaze wildly, but she can do nothing.

"He wasn't smiling, but he was brave."

She sees a man under the water, going down, heaved up to the surface once more.

"One last yell he gave before he went. Never could remember what he said…"

She sees his mouth opening and closing, forming words. Water gushes in. Darkness. A still, motionless form is tossed in the deep.

"Yes, sad."

Bubbles floating up.

Nothing.

"_NO!" _

All through the tavern, men turn to stare at the girl who stands from the table, eyes flashing vengeance.

"He is not dead," she says.

_He is not dead._

They believe her. But she's leaving now. Ripping between the tables and scattering grog bottles everywhere, _clinkety-clink_. She stops once at the door, turning. Eyes alight.

"I'll find him. I'll find my father." Conscious of having convinced the tavern of that fact, she turns and stalks away into the darkening street, the wind blowing the first leaves of autumn around her feet.

"A memorable spectacle," murmurs someone.

"Regular little beauty," says another.

"Spitfire, that. Watch out for her, I would."

The man who had told the story to her sighs reluctantly. Do someone a favor and all you get for it is…well, this.

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But the girl, tramping determinedly over the cobblestone streets, knows where she is headed. And she knows what her purpose is…

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Chapter 1: Captain Sashay

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_Many Days Earlier_

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I.

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Quest loved thunderstorms. Especially if they were midsummer storms, and began with an overcast day and a low growl of thunder.

_Broomboom._

And then the rain, the rain that would come spitting like so many glassy devils down from the heavens to the mortal earth. Thunderstorms meant that somewhere out on the gnarled blue Grimblian Ocean ships were preparing to battle the elements. Tanned sailors would jump over ropes, tying knots, the captain would be shouting orders…

Quest longed to live that life again. She had, until two years ago. She had been fourteen, and her father had drowned, as was said, commandeering the second of their two ships in a thunderstorm. Perhaps this was why she loved the storms; it may have been paradoxical, to love the storms that killed your father, but Quest didn't think of it that way. Maybe, just maybe, if she reached far enough into the heart of the darkness and the high winds, she would find her father again, still trapped amid the torrent.

After realizing that he wasn't coming back, she had cried herself to sleep for a year, then forged ahead. Life went on, after all, and tears didn't pay the grocery bill. So she no longer cried. Weeping was replaced by a deep, quiet sadness that lurked behind her eyes and tiptoed over her face unexpectedly.

Now, at the half-grown stage of nearly seventeen years, with a grey, unkind past and no future to speak of, Quest was a strangely bright and optimistic soul. She settled herself in a comfortable heap by the bakery window and looked out, watching as rain began rattling the glass.

.

Oh yes, there were ships out on the ocean. One in particular.

Like a tall white queen, the _Black Widow _floated over the azure waters, tight creamy sails lifting with the swell of the wind, a regular snow lady.

And stalking to the front of her, who but Captain Dolly Maybe!

Tossing her golden curls over one shoulder and turning her perfect face to the wind, one could see by the pretty picture she made in her pirate's costume how she had earned her name. Cheeky ruffles rippled the edges of her linen shirt under the leather jerkin, and a small white bow was tucked over one ear.

But like the treacherous blackcap adder of the distant east, there was more to the pirate's charming appearance than greeted any naïve looker. Flaps of steel-studded oxhide layered themselves over and under every pertinent inch of her body. She was well protected.

She boasted that her ship - daughter, mother, and sister to Dolly - could never be sunk. Which may have very well been true; no one had even heard of its having to be repaired.

Big eyes round as saucers. Not to mention long, curly lashes. _Blue_ eyes, like round sapphires, wells of never-ending _blue_, big and bright, twisted, twinkling gem-like eyes. Once you were under their spell it was hard to escape.

And no one knew that better than Dolly…

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II.

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The storm was over, and all was sunshine. The world was smiling again!

Quest nodded to the baker. "Thank you for letting me stay here for a while, Mr. Lamotti." _Don't say it. Please don't say it. Please don't -_

"Miss Rightley, I expect to be repaid sometime." The baker fatly folded two fat hands over his apron, seeing if Quest had a remark.

_And if I'm not, your honor will be forever smudged,_ thought Quest. Three, two, one.

"And if I'm not, your honor will be forever smudged."

Bingo, thought Quest.

But she _would_, she promised herself as the sweet air of midmorning overcame her. She smelled apples. She would repay the baker, and the tailor, and the grocer, and all the other friends of her father's who she had - no, not _sponged_ off. Borrowed from.

Ah, who am I kidding, she thought. Yes, sponged off.

Her father had many friends. Had _had _many friends. And they had been very generous to her. Perhaps she wouldn't think of it.

Perhaps she would just walk along the docks jauntily. Her father's first ship, the one Quest had been on when the second ship went down, was still with the same sailors. Quest had often gone by to say hello, and they tolerated her, but they would not allow a girl to go to sea with them.

She swung on a rope towards the _Suzy_ and threw up an arm in salute. "Hey, boys," she called fondly to they who had once been her father's men.

Bad Lucky grimaced, his yellow knobs of teeth smacking against his mouth. "No going aboard her today, Quest. She's just been scrubbed well past glistenin'."

"I'm coming with you on your next voyage," said Quest, ignoring him and running up the gangplank.

"No you're not," Captain Sashay said.

Quest blinked thoughtfully up at his handsome face. He was only twenty. She had always thought him attractive. However, the _Suzy _was going to be legally hers when she turned twenty-one; and since she fully intended to seize it and flee the instant she held the deed between her fingers, forming an attachment to the captain she would be throwing out didn't seem to be in her best interests.

Consequently, she had gone through many periods of denial, dismissiveness, fury that her pathetic attraction didn't pack its bags and leave, and finally weary acceptance. The tiresome cycle would then repeat.

"A woman onna board'll bring the Black Curse upon us all," prophesied Salt grimly.

"I will not. And Lucky, this deck hasn't been scrubbed in days. Anyway, I'm coming."

Captain Sashay shook his head. "No, Quest. A woman's place is on shore."

"Chauvinist," muttered Quest darkly. "And besides, Sashay, I'm not a woman. I'm a girl." She liked saying his name.

Sashay took a newspaper from a chair and pointed at a headline. _Black Widow Kills Its Own Mate._

"You see there? Wickedest ship on Mother Earth. It says she cannoned her sister ship, the _Speckled Recluse,_ because the captain suspected that there were traitors on her! _Suspected_! Quest. There is danger, and you're safer here."

"You want me safe."

"Of course I do."

"Because I'm a girl."

"Yes, and because your father asked me to look after you."

She blinked. "I never knew that."

"He did, all right?" Sashay strode to the railing.

"You were only a - "

"Lowly sailor. Yes."

"And he still…?"

"Don't ask about what you can't understand."

That stung. She whipped her almost-black brown hair around so fast Bad Lucky felt a breeze.

"_Can't understand_? You're the one that can't understand, Sashay. I can - "

"Go. Exactly. Goodbye." Sashay pushed her down the gangplank, and pulled it up again at lightning speed.

"Hey!" shouted Quest.

"We're going after the pirate ship, _Black Widow_," shouted Finn Blade, as the ropes were cast off by other crewmen. "Five thousand gold coins as a reward. The greatest adventure."

"And I want to come!" shouted Quest, feeling like an idiot. A whining, childish idiot. But she was so angry she could feel the steam from her own ears.

"Sorry, Miss Rightley. Can't," said Captain Sashay lazily, leaning on the railing and smiling suavely.

"Turn around _right now_," shouted Quest.

"Shan't," he said.

Quest turned and ran back through the streets, head pounding, dodging carts and people, jumping over a boat.

A boat?

Quest turned to the man who was pulling it and smiled the sweetest she knew how.

And she knew how.

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_Elfine's Note: I have to say: These first few chapters were written a few years ago, by a young and twiddly Elfine who named her characters weird things like Quest because she thought it was really cool or something, so if there are writing mistakes blame them on her._

_I named Dolly's ship before I ever heard of the Avengers, see? Great minds think alike is all. And I hope Quest and her affection/annoyance for Sashay is not cliche._

_Review and tell me what you think please!_


	2. Stowaway

Chapter 2: Stowaway

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I.

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Wet as a dog, Quest climbed, _oof_, into the hold of the _Suzy_ and tied up the boat - a nice little thing, quite light and handy for sneaking round ships that didn't want you.

But they can't get rid of you if they're stuck with you, reasoned Quest to herself. And they'll be stuck with me. I just have to wait a few more days until they're out in the open ocean and can't turn round. Meanwhile -

She answered herself by looking at the food stores, packed in crates and barrels all around the hold.

I could last a while in here.

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Up on the deck, Captain Sashay stared at the receding shapes of the docks. He couldn't see the figure of Quest anymore. She must have gone home. Maybe he should have let her come, after all. But no, it was better for her to stay on dry land.

Mind satisfied on that point, he turned his attention to the newspaper and again looked at the article. The _Black Widow_ and her nefarious Captain Dolly had been last sighted near the coast of Dongun-Ar, on the east side. The _Suzy_ was headed that way now.

"Sir," said Cobb, rushing up from below, "Sir, I think there's rats down in the hold, sir. I heard scufflin' an' such."

"Investigate, then," said Sashay absently.

"Yes, sir."

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Quest had discovered that if she sat on a certain crate near the ceiling, she could hear nearly all the conversation from above through a crack. So she was already very comfortably hidden between some sacks as Cobb came down the stairs.

Cobb, she reflected, had never been much for brains. She watched him as he lifted one or two boxes, looked underneath, shrugged, and trundled up the stairs again.

"Nothing, sir."

Quest smirked triumphantly. Yes, indeed, she was brilliant, she decided.

Sashay said absently: "Fine, then. Resume duties."

"Yes, sir."

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Captain Dolly Maybe looked at the rapidly approaching fog bank ahead, then at the fat ship behind her. _King's Royalty Ship #267,_ it read on the prow. She was sure that they couldn't see the _Black Widow_ yet - the mist around the water was too thick. "Straight ahead into the fog," she called to the helmsman.

"But - "

A lift of one perfectly curved eyebrow. Nothing more.

"Y-yes, Captain."

Smile.

The helmsman swiped a hand across his brow and breathed.

Once they were well covered by the billowing white clouds, Dolly ordered about.

Then, "Straight ahead!"

They shot forward and back out the way they came. To the people aboard the _#267_, the _Widow_ looked like a ghost ship, appearing from nowhere in the midst of the eerie whiteness. Strike one for Dolly.

Trembling (the captain of the _#267_ was no brave man) they watched and did nothing as the _Black Widow_ pulled in alongside them, and from her ship, Dolly ordered her men aboard.

Pirates slunk on, grinning wolfishly, showing the whites of their eyes. A terrifying sight, if you weren't prepared for it.

Ten minutes later, with five prisoners and all the cargo from the _King's Royalty Ship #267_, Dolly sailed away from the terrified captain. She didn't want his ship. Just the stuff from the ship. That was the way she worked.

And where she put all that richness, no one knew. Except Dolly.

She had it kept somewhere…probably somewhere in the Grimblian Ocean, it was surmised, but no one knew, really. People knew better than to try to follow her…

.

"Where in the world arra the sardines I put inna here?" Salt, the cook, rummaged in the boxes.

Quest gulped, and quietly chewed the sardine. Stupid, stupid, eating fish when you're trying to stay hidden, she silently scolded herself.

Sure enough, Salt sniffed the air. "I smella fishies," he whispered. "Out, fishies. Where did I putta dem?"

Quest hurriedly threw the tin box out the window. Splash.

The life of a stowaway wasn't all that bad. All one had to know was how to hide well - and what not to eat. Salt's nose was leading him nearer. _Oh, dear. _

And Salt reached in, grabbed Quest by her collar, and roared.

"_STOWAWAY! ALL HANDS ON DECK! STOWAWAY! STOWAWAY! STOWAWAAAAY!"_

In her plan, Quest had seen herself calmly walking up to Sashay, triumphantly telling of her cleverness, and ending with a vow to capture the _Black Widow_ herself. Sashay would of course be so amazed that he would have eyes for no other.

But Quest was finding that things never went according to plan.

First, instead of going of her own accord, she was being dragged. No, _held by her collar, up in the air_—so humiliating. Like a naughty child. And second, Salt was taking her to _him_—Salt was telling Sashay the whole story in words so, so far from what she had imagined—and now the captain was looking down on her with not even a glimmer of admiration.

Phooey, thought Quest.

Salt, disgusted, dropped her on the deck.

Thump.

Quest gathered up the bruised remains of her pride and lifted her head.

"You can't take me back," she croaked.

"Little _child_," said Sashay.

"Well, you can't."

Sashay bit his lip. "No," he said finally, "I can't. But you're going off at the next port we come to, Quest Rightley. That is it."

Quest didn't argue. What was the use?

"Oh, and Quest."

She turned, caught a ladle. The captain was laughing.

"You're on kitchen duty with Salt. No questions asked."

She stormed back through the doors of the kitchen, fuming and glowing by turns. The dashing captain knew how she had always hated kitchen duty when they had sailed with her father. _No questions asked._ That was what Dad had always said when she was starting to argue. But still—Sashay had _remembered._ That was what was touching—and irritating at the same time.

Thought Quest, phooey and double phooey.

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II.

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Salt was bossy as ever. They were making stew for the ship's company's supper, and Quest was doing nothing right, according to Salt. First, she chopped the carrots too thick. Then she put pepper in instead of salt.

I _wish _I could throw _you_ in, thought Quest.

"No lollygagging," said Salt briskly. "Stowaways needa earn their keep orra jump overboard."

And he would _not_ stop talking about stowaways! As if she was no better than a common _thief_!

Time to take this matter into her own hands.

"Salt," she said quite clearly and firmly, "I am not a stowaway. I came because I have a right to, because this is still my father's ship and passes to me when I am twenty-one."

"Itta _does_?" said Salt, opening his eyes wide.

"Yes," said Quest, suspiciously.

"Well, then, All Hail Queen Quest, Ruler offa the Suzy! Please, marm, putta whatever you wish inna stew. Fill itta wid custard pudding. I have no other mission but to serve you."

Salt had always been sarcastic.

.

Dolly walked from side to side, swishing her curls expertly. She was inspecting the five prisoners she had taken from the _#267_.

"Names," she said.

"J-J-James Darmorrow," said the white-faced sailor.

"Falconeer Bridge," said the tough-looking second mate, speaking bravely. But Dolly had trained herself in this, and she saw that his eyes sparked with fear.

"Denny," said the second sailor. He was small. He looked only a little frightened. Though Dolly hated admitting it, even to herself, he probably didn't know who she was. Well, that could be fixed.

"Willis Daring," said a passenger. A younger man, probably not over twenty. Very handsome, thought Dolly. That could be useful in some way, maybe.

Then she came to the last one. She was a tall girl, with very long pale hair.

"Lace Gunner."

Dolly had been turning around, but when the girl said her name she whirled. "Lace Gunner?"

Nod.

"Of the Gunners from the ship _Fantastic_?"

Nod.

"Well. Well, well."

The prisoners did not like the sound of Dolly's "well-well."

"Take them belowdecks," said Dolly. "Time to mark them."

The thing people thought most hideous about Dolly was that she marked her prisoners, like scientists with bugs, so that she would always know them. A heart, cut swiftly, into the temple. Sailors who wore that scar "had been kissed by Captain Dolly."

James Darmorrow, Falconeer Bridge, and Denny received their marking, but when Captain Dolly stepped up to Lace Gunner and pulled back her pale hair to make the cut, she looked closer.

"Oh, yes. You've been here before," she said politely.

"As you can see by that thing on my forehead, yes, I have," returned Lace.

"Then I shan't burden you with another," said Dolly.

"You are so very considerate."

Dolly was getting angry now. "I'll kill you like I killed your brother," she whispered hoarsely.

Quintessential Ted and Three-legged Patrick, standing guard by the door, looked at each other in surprise. Here was something new.

Lace said: "Do it then."

Dolly drew her sword, looked at Lace.

But then she stopped. Her anger passed as suddenly as it had come. Amusement replaced it - a far more dangerous thing.

"No, Lacey my darling, I shan't kill you just yet. The other four will be put aboard the next ship we pirate. But not you, my friend. No, I want to keep you for now." Dolly stalked to Willis, who had yet to be "kissed".

She drew the heart on his temple with practiced ease, using her knife as a pen. He winced not once.

The outline of the heart turned red.

It amused Dolly. She left.

"Here - " Lace reached out, gave her handkerchief to him.

He took it. "Thanks."

"I've seen it done before. I've had it done to me. Nasty for a while. Heals quickly, though." Lace watched him put the cloth to his head. Only then did he grimace. Once.

"So…"

"So…"

They stared at one another for a few awkward moments. Dennis, Falconeer, and James were silent, either falling asleep or having fainted from the cuts.

"So she'll kill you?" said Willis, noticing her looks for the first time, admiringly. Lor, he thought, the girl had a mouth like a Topeka sunset.

Lace shrugged. "I guess so."

"And you don't _care_?"

"No. I don't have anything left to want to live for. And there's no one who would miss me."

"You're all by yourself, then."

"Yes."

Silence.

"So I'll die, and cheerfully. Since no-one cares, I mean."

His eyes turned upwards to hers, friendly. "_I _would care."

The stars climbed out, and inky murk stretched black fingers over the sky. Poetry may be futile and love a sorry cliché, but in a lone ship in the midst of the tossing waves of the Grimblian Ocean, two lonely people shook hands in a promise of comradeship, brought together by fate alone.

Well, fate and Captain Dolly.

.

_Elfine's Note: As you can see, I was pretty gruesome in my younger years. Does it warrant a changing to T, mayhap? Tell me._


	3. Ships

Chapter 3: Ships

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I.

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Quest was done doing the dishes from supper, finally. (Did every sailor use five plates?) She was feeling slightly disgruntled; her hands were wrinkled and red from being in the dishwater and the smell of the kelp soap they used lingered almost overpoweringly about her person. When _she _was Captain here, there would be no more kelp soap.

But still, she reflected, she _was_ on the _Suzy. _She wasn't going off until she, herself, decided to; she knew that much, no matter what Sashay said. She was going to get the _Black Widow_, aye, and that snooty Captain Sashay's respect, too.

It was dark as Quest climbed the stairs to the deck. The night was cool and quiet, and stars were gathering up in the navy sky. Sashay was standing at the helm. The steady breeze ruffled his dark hair.

Quest approached quietly behind him, watching the shadows from the solitary lantern swinging over his tall form. He must have relieved the night helmsman. She wondered why. Somehow she couldn't see Sashay doing it for kindness...or perhaps she didn't know him as much as she liked to think.

"Why did you want to come with us?" he said, without turning around.

After a moment she said quizzically, "How do you know it's me?"

"You're the only one that walks so quietly," was his reply; she expected him to add "Just like a girl", or something of the sort, but he didn't.

She turned her mind back to the question he had asked and felt an odd, small thrill - he was asking her something about herself, something that went past what he saw her as; he was acknowledging her to be a person who had thoughts. It was a strange gesture, but one which Quest clutched at eagerly and put aside to look over later.

"Why do _you_ want to go?" she walked up beside him.

"It was because I wanted to…well…you don't answer a question with a question."

"That question is my way of answering, Mr. Sashay."

"Aggravating girl."

"Thanks."

They stood in the quiet darkness. The big silver moon shone out. Waves washed up the sides of the ship.

"I wonder who thought up the word _star_. I can't think of anything starrier than star for those twinkly things."

"Quest, you are changing the subject."

"I'm not! I thought we had moved on."

"Perhaps _you_ had."

"You haven't moved on yet?"

"Not yet."

"Maybe you need to."

She herself didn't know what she meant by that. The words just came. She knew they weren't talking about changing the subject anymore.

Beside her, Sashay sighed.

"You alright?"

"Yes, Quest. I needed that advice more than you knew."

She didn't know what he meant by _that,_ either.

.

"Rise and shine! Up and at 'em!" Salt banged two pots together and kicked the blankets off Quest's bed. "Qu—Questy, me gel? Where arra you?"

"Here!" a cheerful voice called from the kitchen. Quest was tying her apron on. "I'm up already, Mr. Salt."

"Oh!" Salt regarded Quest suspiciously as she hopped about the kitchen.

"I'll make breakfast this morning. You go and relax."

Quest was putting butter and sugar into a bowl. She smiled brightly at Salt.

Well, thought Salt, I would like to have time to—what did she say—relax?

Quest poured another cup of sugar in.

He couldn't figure her out. There must be something behind all this, he reasoned.

"I'll just sit here and watcha you," he said, sagging heavily into a chair.

If you think you're going to catch me at anything, thought Quest smugly, you're dead wrong.

.

"Breakfast! Come on, everyone!"

Breakfast on the _Suzy_ was the one time of the day where nearly everyone sat down and ate all in one room. It was looked forward to for this reason. Sailors are sometimes lonely.

But when they gathered at the table, no sour pancakes or smelly cold tea waited, as was usually Salt's menu.

"Hey, _look_!"

"Never seen a cake that big!"

"Looks mighty good."

"Whoo! Hand me my plate!"

Quest smiled to herself behind the silver knife she was carving the cake with. She had learned a thing or two from Lamotti, the baker. And if she was going to be cook's helper for the rest of this voyage, might as well make everyone like her.

Judging from all the happy, drooling faces before her, it wasn't going to be that hard.

.

Lace watched as Dolly came bouncing through the hall, breaking up the morning sunshine from the windows; her blue doublet was set with two rows of tiny bells that tinkled merrily with her movements. She looked pleased about something.

"The _Quilted Dearie_ is fast approaching," said the captain. "I do believe she is one of those that wish to put an end to my beautiful _Widow_ and claim the reward offered—five thousand gold pieces, if I remember. I thought I was worth much more than that." She laughed lightly, a frivolous trill like a high harpsichord set, _ah-ah-ah-ha_. "But have no fear, I shan't harm her much, just teach the whippersnappers a good lesson and then send them on their way—along with four new passengers."

She smiled at James Darmorrow, Falconeer Bridge, Denny and Willis Daring.

Turning to Lace, she said, "You, my dear, are staying."

"I know."

Dolly ran back up the stairs and looked out at the _Quilted Dearie_ from the starboard rail. Only minutes more and they would catch up with the _Widow_—yet Dolly did nothing.

Then she shouted— "_Fire!"_

Clar, the cannon loader, touched the flame to the cannons.

Two explosions, followed by a searing hiss overhead. Silence. Then—_crunch_.

Two exact hits.

Not anything enough to sink the _Dearie_, mind you. The cannonballs were Dolly's own invention. They were each about the size of a tangerine, and they had slammed into the water barrels.

The fresh water now guzzled out and was washing all over the deck. In three seconds flat there was nothing left. The _Quilted Dearie _now had no choice but to turn around and go back to land. Without a drop of water, they were powerless.

.

Dawson Hawsbeck, captain of the _Quilted Dearie_, was furious. He knew as well as Dolly did what she was doing. She likely had prisoners she wanted to be rid of. Soon there would be a call of—

"Man overboooooooard!"

Ah, yes. And there was a small boat with three men in it. Hawsbeck's code of honor made him stop the ship and take them on board. If they left them floating there, Dolly could care less. _She_ would never take them back, Hawsbeck knew.

"James Darmorrow, sir."

"Falconeer Bridge, sir."

"Denny, sir."

The telltale kiss on their brows was pink and brown and purple yet, but in time it would heal into a fine scar for all to see that they were no longer their own man.

.

And where was our fourth prisoner?

Willis Daring was the descendant of a long line of mountaineers and ropers. He even had the trademark dark hair, dusting of freckles, and clear sea-glass eyes of the Northern Climbers. He had slipped back up the side of the _Black Widow_ and through the window. No оne was guarding against this, as no one ever thought that anyone would want to _stay_ on board the _Black Widow_.

Willis hid in the hold, next to the room where Lace was kept. He had made a promise to her, and meant to keep it. He was going to get them both out.

.

II.

.

On a street in the city of Dongun-Ar, a refined young lady who evidently thought much of herself stopped at a stall and jabbed a gloved finger at an apple. "How much for that."

"Two doons*," said the grizzled man.

"Thievery!" began the girl, turning up her nose. Then something caught her eye and she lifted her spectacles. "Who's that little boy with the funny hair?"

There was indeed a boy. He stood in front of a public house, red hair flaming like a beacon; an orange and yellow carpet was rolled out under his feet, green wooden bowls placed about the edges. The bowls seemed to hold an odd assortment of knickknacks: spools of burgundy string, thick glass beads, thin metal discs; a brightly painted sign poked in the ground nearby announced with flair: "The Amazing Bean".

There was a small crowd gathered around him. They were watching something he was doing with his hands.

" 'S Theodore Bean," said the man. "Mother and father both dead long ago. He does odd chores for an apple or two when his business is slow."

"What business?"

As she spoke, a monkey hopped down from the boy's shoulder.

"One plus one," said Theodore Bean.

The monkey held up both tiny hands.

The crowd clapped enthusiastically.

"Yes," continued the stall owner to the lady, "The Bean - though he is only twelve - makes a pretty good living around here. Almost as good as me."

"Which brings us back to you and your over-priced apples," said the girl.

"Two doons. Rock-bottom price."

"One doon, four Crestfield heads**?"

"Make it five."

"Done."

As they exchanged coins and apple, more people had gathered to watch. Theodore Bean whisked a flower from behind his monkey's ear; he threw the flower to the ground, clapped his hands twice, and the flower exploded - quite convincingly. The Bean caused it to reappear under his cloak with a few magic words he invented on the spur of the moment. (But nobody could tell, of course—it looked for all the world as if he was a magical boy.)

Theodore Bean's eyes danced as he threw a red ball up in the air and it came down blue. The blue went back up, traveling higher, twisting faster; it turned into a scarf and floated back to his waiting hands. He shot flames from his fingers, and the crowd squealed. The glass beads twirled, suspended in the air; black and white bracelets appeared on the hands of the crowd, who gasped with delight. The Bean finished up his act earlier than usual, as one of the matches had burned a finger; as the crowd dispersed, murmuring, he sauntered up with a cheerful grin to the apple stand.

"One Sweet Yellow," he requested. He could have been ordering a drink at the pub, for what his manner was.

"Sorry, Bean," chuckled the stand owner. "Only got plain old red apples today. The Sweet Yellow shipment will come in tomorrow, I'd imagine."

The Bean munched on one. "Have you heard of Dolly Maybe?"

The old man nodded. "Aye. Wicked girl."

"Have you heard about the reward?"

"Yes. Foolishness. Just a bunch of—"

"Well, not to me." The Bean chewed meditatively. "Sounds fun," he added, as he polished off the last bites.

"Going after a pirate ship? Sounds like a whole lot of danger."

"No, no." The Bean threw the core to a curious mouse, who nibbled on it. The Bean wiped his hands on his pants. "_Being_ on the pirate ship. Being a pirate yourself. Don't you think?"

"Good heavens, no. And I hope you'll flush such notions from your head." The old man patted The Bean's red hair, then eyed it. "You need a haircut, my boy."

.

III.

.

It was two days later when the call came, long and clear from the crow's nest.

"Captain! Captain! Look to port!"

Sashay ran to the ship's side. A long spar floated there, in the midst of the little white-capped waves, with two people half-clinging, half-lying on it.

"Bring them up!" bellowed Sashay. There wasn't any need for him to give the command, however; ropes were already being tossed over. The thought of floating in the churning cold water made Sashay shiver as he shoved up his shirt sleeves and gripped the ropes alongside his men.

"_Haul!_" The sailors pulled; as it came up, hands grasped the splintered spar and the pale, soaked hands of the figures. Seawater washed on the deck from their clothing; they lay prone and unmoving; but barely perceptible movement of chest and mouth indicated life still working within them.

Sashay ordered for them to be taken to a cabin down the rear stairs, and he ran below for the ship's doctor. Jostling between curious sailors and the railings of the forward stairs, he suddenly encountered Quest on her way up, her inquisitive eyes blinking at him.

"Quest! You're heaven sent. We brought in two people from a shipwreck, it looks like."

"A shipwreck, when there hasn't been a storm for a week?" Her face was curious.

He hadn't remembered that. "One of them appears to be female - go and help Shrimpy with settling her in the cabin."

Without a word, she turned and began running back to the cabins; not without a muttered comment - which, in the midst of the deep roar of the men's voices all round them, still managed to float back to Sashay's ears.

"_So a female can be useful on a ship, after all_."

.

"Seawater, sir," said Shrimpy, the 'doctor' of the _Suzy, _who lived up to his name. "Their clothes are stiff with the salt. So are their tongues. Swollen."

"Give them each a half cup of water and new clothes. Have they spoken yet?"

"No—well, the boy's just said 'I'm Willis, that's Lace'—their names. Unconscious now, the both of 'em. They must have been floating for the past two days. And sir—"

"Yes."

"On the boy's forehead—"

"They've been aboard the _Black Widow_, I take it," said the Captain. He understood now - no shipwreck was this, but the mind of Dolly Maybe.

"Yes, sir—the wound on him's just recent, sir. But the girl's healed long ago."

"Strange. Well, tell me if there are any changes. And have some one there at all times in case they begin speaking. They may help us find the _Widow_."

"Right, Captain."

.

*A doon is a like a two-cent piece.

**A Crestfield Head is like 1/4 of a penny.

.

_Elfine's Note: Reviews are rainbows and unicorns, people! Please kindly excuse any and all extreme lack of nautical knowledge. _

_P.S. Miss Fantastic: Will is also known to say "Get thee to an updating post and surrender chapter 43." Something like that, anyway._

_Clar: the cannon-loader Pirate. Excuse my swiping your name, but I mean, with all the pirates, how could I resist putting it in somewhere?_


	4. Lace

Chapter 4: Lace

.

I.

.

Lace Gunner lay on the bed. Her eyes were closed, and she made no sound, save that of the even breaths sighing through the silent room. She was dressed in dry clothes, and Quest had folded her into the blankets to ensure her safety from chill; for though the striped curtains hung heavy over the glass window the room was cold.

A knock came at the door. Shrimpy was sitting with Lace for the time being; he answered it.

Quest's dark head appeared around the door. She looked for a minute at the girl on the bed before whispering to Shrimpy, "How is she?"

"She hasn't moved," he answered, looking at his pocket-watch.

"It's almost supper," said Quest.

The doctor nodded sadly.

With a tiny laugh, "You can go," said Quest, stepping in and patting him on the back. "I'll watch."

Shrimpy, relieved, tiptoed out. He shut the door softly.

At the sound the girl's eyes flew open.

Quest jumped to her side. "Hello?" she ventured.

Lace was looking into her face, but not at her. She was seeing something through her, above her; in the past, or maybe the future; a shadow collected itself on her face, her brow darkened. "They've found him. By the horns of Antrath, they've found him."

"Who?" breathed Quest. "Willis - your friend?"

"No. No!" A tear gleamed in her eye as she spoke, and her voice trembled and became that of a young girl. "Harry, my brother - they've found him."

"What happened?" Quest said.

Lace spoke, closing her eyes. But she was not talking to Quest.

"They are gone now; into the West through the deep and the cool of the ocean - past the earth and beyond the sunrise. They are gone - but they left me."

Lace thrashed about wildly for a moment; the blankets tangled, she ceased, and seemed to calm when Quest put a cool cloth on her forehead.

Then Quest saw the heart. The kiss.

Lace's eyes were closed, but now she opened them and looked, for the first time, at Quest.

"You don't know," she said.

"There are a lot of things I don't know," said Quest.

"Yes, but you don't know what it's like - the anticipation of being killed."

Quest said nothing. Lace seemed happy to talk to herself. She no longer acknowledged Quest's presence.

"But they didn't; not in body. They gave me a mirror, there's a heart on my forehead - they say she owns me now, but she doesn't, not while I'm alive, isn't that true?"

Quest was silent.

Now Lace began speaking normally, in a much older tone. "She's laughing again now, thinks she's clever for capturing me again, two years later, but she's not - I wanted to come back. I boarded a ship that I knew she would capture. And she took me aboard, just like I'd planned. Now is my chance for revenge – "

Lace sighed and looked up at the ceiling again. Then she turned and tossed in the bed for a few seconds before continuing.

"Willis is staying with me. He says he's going to get us both out, but he doesn't know I have a mission. I have to remain until I've accomplished it."

She was quiet.

Then suddenly her voice tore out amid the stillness of the cabin. "_STOP_!" she cried. "_He has done nothing! Leave - him - alone -_

"She says we have to both be killed. She lets us go in the Sea of Sharks." Lace shuddered. "They're all around us - they'll – no - sto-o-o-op - "

The cabin door suddenly burst open and Sashay stood there.

Quest started, and looked from Lace to him. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"I didn't realize," he whispered, seeming to be at a loss for words. "Quest, the – the kitchen. Salt needs you. Has she woken yet?""

"She might have, if you'd watch how you bang about," whispered Quest back, turning to the girl. Lace seemed asleep again, but her mouth was moving softly. "You have to stay with Lace, then," she added, tiptoeing to the door and looking back.

"What's she been doing?" Sashay peered over her shoulder.

Quest considered, briefly, keeping Lace's story to herself; but her frank nature dismissed the notion. "I wouldn't say woken, but she's been speaking."

"I'd tell you to stay but…I wouldn't want to incite the anger of Salt." He smiled at her fleetingly before sitting in the chair by the bunk. "I'll stay. Go on."

Quest was about to leave, but her eyes caught a sudden movement; Lace was shifting her head - her eyes were opening. She looked up at Sashay, then to Quest. Only this time, her eyes cleared, she blinked and looked about bewilderedly; and she seemed to actually become aware of their presence.

"Who are you?" she said.

.

II.

.

Theodore Bean whistled quite cheerily, considering that the burned finger was uncomfortably blistered and he had but a single doon in his pocket. He arrived at his usual spot in the street sleepy and a bit wet (the meadow he had rested in had enjoyed a light misting of rain at about four o'clock that morning) poked "The Amazing Bean" sign back into its hole, gave Pepper (the monkey) his breakfast—two walnuts—and began juggling.

This was the boring part of the day. Juggling was only for gaining attention. The real fun began when he had an audience of at least four.

Then out came the plates. The matches. The magic flowers—and then his favorite of all—

The deck of cards.

Oh, he could use them and use them well. His father had not been the Great Wizard Gilinni and his mother the Lady of Many Wiles for nothing...

.

They had been part of a circus.

The tents were bright; the colors rich, the music loud and crystalline through the air as they travelled over sea and land, to the Crimsies, Dongun-Ar, Rangwania, Antrath; his father, his mother and Theodore Bean, The Tricky Machine, as he was called back then. People could tell that he had genius with a deck of cards.

The manager of the circus was Frank Stromber. He noticed Theodore's talent. And soon the Bean found himself alone on the stage, with a thousand pairs of eyes watching his every move. Shakily, he began.

He was a smash hit success.

He started performing every night now, for huge audiences. He was only eight, but the crowds wanted more. The manager was making him perform more and more often. He was losing sleep. His parents worried.

"We'll move to the country," they said.

Theodore was happy. He didn't like the huge audiences with their frightening faces and the long clowns with their big feet and harlequin outfits - the country sounded like a wonderful place.

Then they died, his parents, in the terrible accident that everyone talked about for weeks. The trapeze artists had swung into the tightrope walker, and they had come crashing down on Gilinni and his wife.

Frank Stromber closed down the circus and moved far away.

The bearded lady and the midgets and the clowns were all out of a job…

And so was Theodore Bean.

One day he began playing one of his favorite card tricks on the street. A small crowd gathered. He kept going. They whistled and clapped.

And he was happy. This was much different that the dimly lighted tent with its musty smells and cigarette smoke drifting through the air. This was out in the open, and he was his own manager.

.

Now, four years later, Ian Bean took half the deck and held it up.

"Queen," he said.

He halved the pile again, shuffled, and reached for the top card. He held it up.

Queen.

The card had been concealed in his palm the whole time, but nobody needed to know that. It was something he'd learned long ago from his father: Never, Never, Never Reveal Your Tricks…

.

_Captain: I would like to give you cookies for finishing the_ River _tale, but my teleportation powers have gone slightly screwy and so you must accept my warm congrats here._


	5. Sailing

Chapter 5: Sailing

.

I.

.

Shrimpy had come back up to check on Lace. His thin face, worn and small with its pale red whiskers, crinkled with concentration. "She's worn out – still exhausted and a touch feverish," he said, touching a large and grimy handkerchief to his forehead. "Best thing is rest, of course, but it would be good if you can get her to laugh maybe; dark spirits never cured any patient of mine."

"We'll try that," said Sashay, nodding. A little too eagerly, thought Quest. She looked over to the bed, where Lace lay against the back of the bunk, eyes half-closed, breathing softly. A nagging little thought began shifting itself in the back of Quest's mind. She knew she ought to empathize with the poor girl, but at the moment all she could see was the tender concern on Sashay's face, and how becomingly Lace's hair was splayed and curled over the striped pillow - and she abandoned empathy and thought: that rotten Lace, why did she have to float up to _this_ ship, of all things? Why couldn't she have minded her own business?

"We'll leave you to sleep for a while," said Sashay.

Lace's head moved up and down briefly with a little sigh before she was still.

"Meanwhile," Sashay said as he closed the door behind them, "We'll see this Willis fellow—Shrimpy says he's worse off than Lace. We can find out how he's managing."

"You haven't been letting Salt administer his physic?"

Sashay laughed. "Heaven and earth, no! I put aside his green glass bottle and emptied it back out where it came; we'll see what the mermaids make of it now, eh?"

Salt's oft-attempted and seldom-applied 'physic' was a strong dose of seawater - it was where he got his name. He drank it himself, saying it "bolstered the jibs of one"; but nary a sailor would try a half-teaspoon of the stuff, except for Bad Lucky - once. "It was like drowning, bit by bit, on _purpose_," he had lamented afterwards.

Smiling to herself – at the memory, or because Sashay had condescended to share a joke with her, she couldn't tell - Quest followed the captain through the dark hall, rimmed with creaking wood walls and ceiling and studded with dim lamps. They were in the center of the ship, and the weight of the thing was close. Quest liked it.

Sashay opened a slatted door at the end, and they entered the small room under the prow. There was only one bed built into the curve of the wall, with a single figure in it.

The first thing that struck Quest about Willis was the odd juxtaposition of his dark hair and pale skin. The second thing she saw was that though he was clearly sleeping, his face and arms were as tense as anchor rope – even his hands were clenched.

"Has he been like this long?" she whispered to Sashay.

Sashay nodded, whispering back: "He hasn't been awake since he told us their names. Something has him staying behind that wall of consciousness – I don't know what."

Quest frowned and knelt by the bunk, touched her hand lightly to the man's forehead. There was no fever. He wasn't shaking or chilled. But as her fingers touched his skin, he visibly stiffened further and a pained look settled on his face.

Sashay, watching her calm the troubled sleeper, looked closely at the brown eyes of Quest and saw that behind her concern for Willis and the thoughts running through her mind, there was admiration – and the admiration was for the handsome face of the youth before her.

It's perfectly natural, he thought. If a mysterious young man appears on the ship, a romantic like Quest is going to notice his looks. And how very odd, Sashay thought, that he - Captain Sashay of the_ Suzy_ - here he almost laughed in spite of himself. It was preposterous that Sashay should - _mind_. At all. Because, you know, Quest was only—how old was it? Sixteen or so? Barely past childhood.

Quest smoothed the dark hair from the young man's forehead. He mumbled something and slept on. Quest spoke something softly and gently, calming his face a little. Sashay felt a burst of protective - _what? _Quest had done the same thing with Lace.

"Quest," he began, rather loudly.

Quest looked up.

"Let's go," said Sashay. "Better not disturb him." Well, it wasn't an excuse - it was the truth – wasn't it? Yes, it was. Of course it was.

But it _wasn't_.

As he followed Quest out, his train of thought went on, the two sides of his mind fencing with each other, back and forth. He admitted to himself, begrudgingly, that she was older than he had given her credit for. But she had stolen on the ship, without so much as a how-do, and that was inexcusable – well – no, but she _had_ asked; and then had come in spite of the "No" she had been given. Which was even worse.

Sashay suddenly discovered that he was still following Quest back to the kitchen, and before he could betake himself off, she had stopped and he bumped - _smack_ - into her. She turned around.

"Sashay, what are you doing? Why are you coming here with me? Don't you have some kind of captainy things you need to do?" Sashay didn't like the way she fired questions at him, or the suspicious-looking laugh-gleam in her eye.

"I thought - I mean - " Well, he didn't know. She was extremely aggravating, standing there, tapping her foot most abominally. His old command took hold of him again. This foolishness must stop at once.

"Nothing, Quest." He paused and continued, "I'd almost forgotten - tell Salt the fried sweet potatoes last night were excellent, and the men would like them again."

"Oh," said Quest. She looked like she was trying to decide whether or not to tell him something.

"Well – I made them," she said, almost timidly.

So there he went again. Bad Lucky had said that a woman on board would be trouble, and here she was, making mincemeat of the Captain's superior status. Sweet potatoes be - !

No good will come of this, he thought darkly.

.

II.

.

Quest was aware that they were very close to Dongun-Ar. And she was prepared to use that fact to her own advantage. As soon as this ship pulls in, she decided to herself, I'm outta here. I'm going to go capture this Dolly Maybe myself.

But then there was also the fact that Captain Sashay was maybe just beginning to have perhaps the teensiest little bit of halfway admiration…for _Quest._ Quest, who had always been a speck in his manly eye. Oh, she was no fool. She had seen the way he looked when she had tried to calm Willis. She hadn't tried to do anything on purpose; if Sashay wished to see things that weren't there so be it. And if Sashay had the dimmest bit of sense, he might have realized that that had _pleased _her.

But he didn't. So he hadn't.

Quest chuckled to herself, shaking her head, as she wiped off the last dish.

.

_Elfine's Note: I noticed, reading this chapter over, that it is told from two alternating points of view. Do you think it goes over well?_

_Please favor me with a review, I love them!_


	6. Dongun Ar

Chapter 6: Dongun-Ar

.

I.

.

It was the next day when the _Suzy_ pulled into harbour.

Dongun-Ar was known mainly by two words - hot and dusty. You should have seen the dust, feathering through the shimmering air, the faint buzz of heat ringing dimly in Quest's ears. The dock merchants were parading back and forth along the shore, holding strings and hooks dripping with their wares; they pounced on anyone on their way up. The colorful buildings began small and close-set, growing in size and number of windows as they sloped upwards on the steep hill.

Dongun-Ar was also known for its stained glass; the glassmakers created beautiful flat sheets of rich mustard and sapphire – this was their main export. The city's iron craftsmen were less talented at piecing the windows together, resulting in a rather lopsidedly gorgeous array of slanted glass reflecting the sun, glittering all the way down the cascade of architecture.

Dongun-Ar had odd qualities. It was near to Rangwania, but not near enough to be part of it; it was small enough to be called an island, but too big to be inconspicuous, and besides that, it was a refuge for outlaws, pirates, and castaways. No one could touch them here. It was the law.

"Dongun, city, and Ar, water - city on the water," Sashay said as they stood at the deck, watching the men pull and tighten the ropes.

"Hum, how original," Quest murmured to herself.

"I heard that. It sounds well enough to those who don't know Arrish, which you obviously don't." So they were back to being grown-up and kid, thought Quest. The moment of equality had passed. She didn't mind, much. At least she knew now it was possible.

But then she halted. I'm not even supposed to be thinking of the Captain at all, she mused. He is, after all, just a regent for me, reigning my ship until I am old enough to do it myself…_old enough,_ fah! Quest nearly spat; stopped, remembering that it always looked terrible when the sailors did it.

Removing Sashay decisively from her mind, she stepped down the gangplank.

At the bottom she paused. The dust road beneath her feet felt strange, almost as if she were dizzy, now that it was no longer swaying. She wasn't used to transitioning from ship to soil and back again anymore, and that saddened her – she was used to bouncing through either world stick-straight and unwavering, but having lived so long in town, it had faded. She frowned to herself, clamping her teeth together. She looked back to the _Suzy _for a moment, seeing the east winds pull slow waves through the dark sea around the ship, surrounding it with glint and sun spark and waterspray.

She expected to feel fondness for the mass of wood and sail. Instead she only sensed a vague discomfort.

.

II.

.

She thought.

She sat in the cavernous tavern and said nothing as the sailors around her swilled and ate. The ceiling twenty feet above was painted with bright gem tones and gold leaf, and the pillars around the table were made of driftwood trunks, grey and soft to the touch. She traced a finger around two intermingled branches absently. Her mind was inside itself.

_You are going off at the next port we come to, Quest Rightley. _His words, emphatic and bossy as ever, remained floating in her conscious. They irked. Like thorns stuck in my boots, she thought.

She didn't know, really, what she wanted.

To claim international renown (not to mention the enormous reward) for capturing the most infamous pirate in the world? Yes, but there was a problem as to how. To captain the _Suzy_? Yes, but that wasn't possible yet.

As the last question passed through her mind, she felt another uncomfortable jab, but promptly dismissed it. Of course, I want to sail my father's ship, she decided. It's what I have always wanted to do, and one doesn't give up on a dream just because of a chance feeling –

"Quest." Someone poked her arm, and she turned. Simon, the freckled cabin boy, flourished a basket of bread under her nose. "Et up."

"I'm stuffed," she said, tiredly. "But thank you anyway." At least Simon acted halfway decent to her -

"Quest, quit your howling." Sashay, sitting across from her, looked down his nose pointedly. She realized with a start that she was spoken the last sentence aloud. She had thought that that only happened in novels.

"I may howl if I wish, it is my business," she answered, feeling that it wasn't the sophisticated answer she had thought it was. But he wasn't paying attention anymore. He was listening to something Bad Lucky was saying and tipping his head back in laughter.

Silent and sleepy, she leaned back into her chair and observed him, watching the movement of his hands through the air as he described something, his profile as he spoke, listening to the swing in his voice, seeing the life in his eyes.

Something rapped quietly at the back of her mind; but she couldn't puzzle out what it was, or what it was trying to say.

.

III.

.

When the company had returned to the ship, Quest went below to her bunk. She lifted the mattress and pulled from under it a leather bag. It contained eleven gold sixes - the remainder of her commission from selling Lamotti's sweet buns in the street.

_You are going off at the next port, Quest Rightly._

Well, so she would, then.

She ignored the angry voice in the back of her head telling her she was being unutterably foolish for setting out into Dongun-Ar by herself - on impulse, at night, no less. She shoved the voice wholly aside and went back up the stairs, moving across the deck in the deepening gloom.

But she had barely taken two steps down the gangplank when a voice from the crow's nest called down. "What are you doing?"

She heaved a breath and groaned. "I'm leaving," said Quest, turning around.

"Leaving?"

" 'Getting off the ship at the next port'. Your words, I believe. I am doing as you said."

"But I didn't mean this way!" Sashay began climbing and sliding down the ladder, gesturing haphazardly with one hand, looking aggravated.

"What _did_ you mean, then?" She was surprised at her own calmness.

"First, not by yourself, of course! Do you really think I would let you to wander off by yourself in a strange country when I didn't even want you to be on the ship? You misunderstand me, Quest."

"What did you have in mind, then?" She already had an idea.

"Well, an escort, of course, like Salt – "

"_No_."

"Don't be maddening. Even _I_ wouldn't feel entirely comfortable walking the streets of Dongun-Ar by myself. Dongun-Ar, Quest. Do you recall what kind of a city this is?"

"I know."

"Then why won't you just listen? Why do you have to be so – " Sashay jumped down to the deck. "So – contrary all the time?"

Because you are always so condescending, she thought. It's maddening.

But also because I know that you're right and I'm being stupid, and I don't want to admit it.

She had to talk, she had to say something - to give voice to what she wanted him to know, but she didn't know how. She took a breath, choosing her words carefully, so as to say exactly what she meant, nothing more or less. "I am not contrary, Sashay; it seems that way to you because you don't expect me to disagree with your opinions."

She chanced a look at his face. He looked vaguely surprised.

She continued. "And you don't expect me to disagree with your opinions because you think I am in need of being told what to do. It's as if – as if I can't think for myself, or I don't know the consequences of anything – "

"In this case you don't seem to! Dongun-Ar by yourself? Did you think that you could just waltz along and everyone would stop and serve you tea?"

"Now _you're _not listening!" She stopped herself before she said something imprudent, and took another breath. "You are right in this instance, I'll say that. Fair enough. But how many times to I have to tell you that I am not a child any more? It seems I can shout it in your ear and you won't pay any attention because it doesn't make sense to you."

"It doesn't."

She stopped. "What?"

"It doesn't make sense. Because, Quest, you don't act like it. If you want someone to think you are something, you have to prove it first; and all you ever do is prance around like a schoolgirl, saying odd things and trying to be witty – "

"And, Sashay, all you ever do is act condescending and look arrogant." She _was _whining now; she didn't care, the words were coming of their own accord, and she didn't want to stop them, because it was such relief to speak. "How am I supposed to talk seriously to you when I get slapped with – with that Look you give me."

"What Look?" Sashay narrowed his eyes.

"You put your shoulders back and your chin up and look down your nose – pressing your mouth together and smirking – like this," said Quest, illustrating.

"I don't do that," said Sashay uncertainly.

"You do," replied Quest. She was tired now. "And even just now, when I was about to go, you were making the point that I am unbelievably idiotic – "

"Not you," Sashay interrupted. "What you were going to do, yes, _that_ was unbelievably idiotic."

"And," Quest began, and lost her train of thought, because something suddenly occurred to her.

Sashay wasn't angry because she was stupid. He was concerned about her safety. And not even as just another person – but her, her self, Quest. He was worried about _her_.

It was a new idea. And for a moment, she was completely silent in surprise.

"Quest," said Sashay.

She looked up.

"Would you mind if we continued this in the morning?" He folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not so unfeeling as you make me. I would be glad to understand..." His voice trailed off and he coughed. The air was growing colder.

Quest straightened her shoulders and smiled. "We don't need to. I'm staying on the ship, don't worry. Just one thing more." After tapping the deck railing with her fingers and thinking, she said slowly, "How about this. I'll promise to not prance around like a schoolgirl – "

"And I won't give you Looks. I'll try, anyway," said Sashay, smiling a bit.

Quest nodded. "We can start there, all right?" She liked her role of negotiator. "That's all I am asking – to be taken seriously."

"I'll bite back a sarcastic reply," said Sashay, taking her cape and hanging it on the hook in the wall.

"How considerate of you." They were bantering again, but it wasn't serious, and she rather liked it. Quest squared her shoulders and tilted her head towards him. "Must I still do the dishes?"

Before he could reply, she answered herself. "Yes, because if I live and eat on this ship, I must contribute to it in some way," she sighed, starting back below.

"Precisely. Good night, Quest," said Sashay.

She turned.

"Good night," Quest answered.

She left him there, standing on the deck in the gathering night, the wind blowing his jacket about. She went back to her tiny room, buried in the side of the ship, and replaced the bag under the mattress. She lit a small white taper; set it on the table, watching the light move and make shadows on the walls.

She could think better when there was a candle lit.

She sat there thinking for a while, enjoying the close feeling of dark, listening to the water rush against the ship. The taper flickered and shone, pooling in glossy drips around its base, and burned halfway down before she blew it out and went to bed.

As she slipped under the thin covers she closed her eyes, contented, and smiled in the dark.

.

_Elfine's Note: I really must apologize for taking so long to post. I promised myself solemnly that nary a week would go by without a new installment, and here go I doing exactly that. Blame a plane trip and school. Anyway, thanky for being patient with my procrastinating self! :D _

_Some of you wanted to know how old Quest and Sashay are, and I'll just state it here for the record: Quest is almost seventeen and Sashay is twenty._

_(Still enjoying your tumblr, Clar!__)_

_(And Captain, post something, anything, please.)_


	7. The Marketplace

Chapter 7: The Marketplace

.

I.

.

There was still morning mist drifting through the sunlight. The water was quietly blue against the ship.

Quest laced her boots, and thought for a moment. She put a hand back over her shoulder and pulled forward a piece of her hair to inspect it. It was getting too long. She had to tie it back, or it would get in her eyes today.

She laced it with a bit of ribbon from the curtain and splashed water on her face; peered at her reflection in the basin, frowning.

More freckles.

A sigh escaped her before there was a knock at her door, and she hurriedly dashed at her face with the towel, darted to the entrance and stepped out.

"Cap says, ivven you're not ready, they're startin wivout yew," said Simon.

"I'm here, I'm here. Thank you, Simon."

"Are you getting supplies?"

She hated it when someone started to ask a question just when she was almost out of earshot. She turned – "Yes" – and flew up the stairs.

Sashay was standing at the gangplank, arms crossed. "I'm glad you could join us today," he said, lifting his eyebrows.

"Oh, waste your sarcasm on somebody else," rejoined Quest amiably. "I'm here. Shall we go?"

"We have to run. Joseph and Bad Lucky got a head start – they're on their way to the marketplace. I made the mistake of entrusting Joseph with the purse." He pulled her along as he spoke, and they began to race through the streets.

She said, "Why did you wait?"

"What?"

She had the feeling he had heard her perfectly well, and his rejoinder was just a stall to make up a suitable answer.

She repeated: "Why did you wait - for me?" Wicked Quest, she scolded herself. You just like to see him cringe.

"I was – the only one not jumping with impatience," said Sashay complacently, after a moment. "Besides, I think Bad Lucky was constructing a lecture for you. You ought to be grateful I saved you from it."

Quest smiled, and was looking around at the way they were going to the market when she felt Sashay take her hand.

She looked up in astonishment. "Hold tight," said the captain. "I don't want either of us to get lost in the crowd. It's vicious there."

She was glad he had explained before she said something silly. But the feel of Sashay's fingers around hers _was_ nice…

She was getting happy-fluttery in her head again, and tried to shake it off; she almost succeeded but it was at that moment they entered the marketplace - and the feeling multiplied with blistering rapidity.

The Dongun-Ar Marketplace was hidden within the city. The main road branched off to the side, dusty and well-worked, and from there the houses began arching, like a tree arbor, over the street. This continued until there was a complete tunnel; even then whatever space was left in the ceiling was filled with glass, welded to the buildings, casting colored light over the street below – and the sounds and smells began, faint at first, wafting through, mouthwatering and spicy odors and haunting and hearty melodies, growing until you were surrounded; _then_ came the Marketplace itself.

It was in a huge vaulted place, windows and stairs going up to houses all around. The ceiling was an enormous round stained glass window, letting the light stream in. It seemed like the market had been there for centuries, and the stalls and booths had grown up over each other, like an artist layers paint.

The moment she stepped out into the throng, Quest was accosted by a voice in her ear crying "Roast potatoes, rosemary and thyme, sweet miss!", and another behind her exclaiming in rapid syllables about fish hair – fish hair? She almost turned, but it was too late to see what they meant; Sashay was gripping her hand tightly and moving straight and sure through the mass. He turned back once, breathing earnestly into her ear, "_Don't let go_": and from there on she only looked.

There was a feast for the eyes to last her until her dying day, she was sure. Strings of pearls, blue jewels, red lacquered boxes, bread, fruit, raw meat hung on strings; it was as if a story was waiting at every stall. She found herself thinking that she could spend her life there and never get bored. Cheese, flowers, books –_ books_ – fabrics, dishes, glass handiwork, candles, even furniture. There were a few small platforms built above the ground where people stood, singing or playing instruments or speaking urgently about politics.

Everyone seemed to be doing business with everyone. Gold coins (brass covered with pyrite, Dongun-Ar's main currency) were passing from hand to hand to hand. A sculptor to her right was bringing a mermaid to life out of green limestone. A gnarled old woman selling baked apples peered into her face shouting above the roar of the crowd about "Two coppers, two coppers"; and Quest shook her head and held onto Sashay's hand tighter, trying to see ahead without stepping on anyone's feet; but the faces were teeming around her, shaking their merchandise in her face and thrusting their elbows into her sides, fulvous dust rising to the air and the grit coming into her eyes –

- and she felt his fingers leaving hers –

- and then his hand was gone –

- and she thought she heard his voice, but it was only the memory of it, whispering inside her own head.

.

_Elfine's Note: Because as soon as someone says "Hold my hand so we won't be separated," you can bet a million dollars they will be. _


	8. Magic

Chapter 8: Magic

.

I.

.

_Who are you, standing in the doorway_

_With your scarlet feather and long sword?_

_Come to see my pretty sister,_

_Blood blister, tongue twister;_

_Come to see her golden hair and laughing eyes,_

_Come with your heart in chains, and _

_Speak slow, words low, masquerade and disguise._

_._

_I've seen you, walking in the market_

_With your scarlet feather and long sword,_

_Come to see the maidens dancing,_

_Side-glancing, advancing;_

_Her heart is breaking beneath her eyes of blue._

_Seek somewhere else; she is too fierce for you._

_._

Soft sopranos were singing in harmony somewhere in the market to Quest's left. She brought her hands together and tiptoed, frantically searching the people around her with her eyes.

She could not see him anywhere.

For a moment she thought about turning and going back to the ship, but when she looked behind her to the walls around, all she could see was doorway after doorway piled above with windows. There was no sign of which way they had come.

She took a deep breath and calmed the anxiety rising in her stomach; someone behind her shoved their cart against her shoulder and she was pushed to the side, her feet tripping over the stones and scattering them. One lodged in her boot.

Brilliant, thought Quest.

She began making her way forward.

The voices were beginning the song over again. _Pretty sister, blood blister _– she passed a stall laden with fragile butterfly wings. The face of the woman standing behind it was heavily painted with green and black around her eyes_. Speak soft, words low._

_Masquerade and disguise – _

A Crier was standing on a little platform, screaming at the top of his lungs the day's news: "Princess of Dongun-Ar Wears Arimanthi Coat To State Dinner! Lord Stranger's Unpopularity Grows! Centuries-Old Marble and Sapphire Prices Rising!" For a half-currant piece he would whisper the details in the customer's ear.

Quest felt in her pocket for the one coin she had taken as she passed a booth draped with brilliantine dresses. They were embroidered with roses and lilacs and long fields filled with yellow grass, and as she went by she touched a finger to the shining threads, sighing.

Beside her, someone was pointing up and shouting to their companion. She followed the direction of their gaze, and drew in a sharp breath. A huge coil of sapphire blue fabric was unfurling down over the crowd, sweeping through the air from the stained glass above. In front of it began coursing figures wearing streams of orange and gold, flying from strings, scattering sparks from their fingers. The fabric ended midair and Quest saw on it words emblazoned:

IN THE COMPANY OF STARS

_The Merry Company Circus_

_Tonight at the Green_

A circus. She wasn't surprised to find a circus in Dongun-Ar. The figures in orange were sweeping upward now on their ropes. A smaller tapestry came down in front of the blue one, naming ticket prices and the various acts. _Benjamin Surly, contortionist. The Lovely Lady Spectre, Magician Extraordinaire. The Disappearing Orbs. Glass Riddles and Dreams. _Quest tore her eyes away and scanned the crowd again.

Where would Joseph and Bad Lucky be? Buying bread and meat, probably; but there were countless stalls with the same items scattered everywhere.

_I've seen you, walking in the market –_

She was somewhere at the edge now, being pressed to the brick wall by a cart laden with squash and tomatoes. She squeezed beside the wheel and managed to pass the cart, finding herself in the doorway to another street; it was not the one they had entered in, but at least it was quieter and she could breathe. There were only a few people passing in and out that way.

There were trees planted on the side, growing in the shadow. Somehow this comforted her. The brick buildings on either side were high and like the quaint old villages up in the mountains back home, folksy and interesting. Diamond-paned windows were studded in odd places deep in their walls. She thought she saw faces peering here and there.

The men and women here were dusky-skinned, in bright embroidered shirts. Quest also noticed weirder characters; some were lurking in the shadows, others strode in the open. They were protected by the law here, after all. She saw standing under a tree an old man with a dark red clerical hat, eyes shifting and glinting under a tangle of thinning strands. There was a girl with yellow hair walking along the side, swinging her cape behind her, a sword with a curled _S _shape below the handle slung in its sheath over her shoulder. Another youth, near the entrance to the street, sat turning a winding-organ and tapping a tiny bell at his feet. His dark curls were crowned with blackberry leaves. As Quest passed, he winked one pale green eye at her.

Impertinence, thought Quest. She wondered, briefly, where they were all going, and if they were going to get there.

The song continued. _Beneath her eyes of blue…_

Something moved in the corner of her vision.

She turned and looked. Near the end of the street, beneath one of the trees, a boy. With bright red hair, juggling in the street.

Quest stepped closer, curious.

.

II.

.

The room was silent. Lace's eyes were closed. She had slipped in and out of sleep for the past day, waking only to drink broth; her fever had slipped gradually down until it was nearly gone.

The door clicked open.

Her lids rose, her pupils dilated; she was seeing ships and stars on the ceiling, and was in a panic because she knew that couldn't be normal, but the ships faded quickly, and after a breath, she turned her head to the entrance.

"Hello," said Willis.

Silence.

"I thought – they told me you were asleep," he said. He was standing in the doorway, one hand on the wall. His face was pale, but his voice was steady. "Would you like me to go away again?"

She was remembering. She didn't want to do that; remembering meant she had failed, and took her to afterwards – and the images were rolling behind her eyes again and they wouldn't stop -

"Lace?"

Visions. Flashes. Waves, sweeping up and down.

Teeth.

"Stay," she said.

He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling," he asked awkwardly.

"Where are we?" she answered.

"Docked at Dongun-Ar, I believe," he said. "I only just started walking around. They told me we could go ashore here if we wanted, or just stay until they dock somewhere else, or…" his voice trailed off, leaving the question.

Lace pulled herself up on her elbows and bent her head on the pillow. "Have you ever been to Dongun-Ar before?"

"When I was young," Willis said. He added, after a moment, "I didn't like it."

"Why not?"

"Because it wasn't a ship, and I like to stay in the open water." He looked at the wooden floor, listening to the ship creaking around them, and then back to Lace. "Your eyes are closing," he told her.

"I feel dizzy," she answered.

"We floated through fever water somewhere when - when we were out - there," said Willis, choosing his words carefully, because he could see the unhappiness rising in her eyes. "I think you swallowed more than I did. It'll wear off by tomorrow."

Lace was nearly asleep again. Her lashes moved slightly, as if she were dreaming. Her cheeks were flushed.

He was at a loss for what to do. His mother was probably still in Antrath somewhere, thinking him on the _King's Royalty Ship #267_. She wouldn't care where he was. They had always rather disregarded each other. For all his former employer on the _#267 _and the world knew, he could be dead. For a moment Willis toyed with the idea of changing his name, but decided against it, because the name had been his father's, and his father had always had a kind word for him.

Still pondering his uncertain future, he stood, and found that somehow Lace's hand had caught hold of his; and he didn't know whether she had done it on purpose, or if she had just been reaching out for something to hold on to and found him there.

.

_Elfine's Note: FF's no-double-return thing is extremely aggravating. I had to put dots in everywhere in the song at the beginning so that the pauses would be right, and it hampers the effect. Apart from that, I loved writing this chapter. I am fond of circuses. Except the "Night Circus" book. That had some good bits but for the most part it was terrible. Be forewarned and don't read it._

_Elfine's Note No. 2: If you want to get the full effect of this chapter, listen to any Danny Elfman soundtrack while reading; I was listening to his music all the while I was writing._

_Elfine's Note No. 3: Lastly, I want to thank the anons who have reviewed for their wonderful words. It really is such an inspiration to write!_

_Note added 10/29: I was thinking of Theodore Bean's parents yesterday. I took a pencil and pretty soon the Lady of Many Wiles had appeared, with beads in her hair and kohl around her eyes, roses in her hand. I don't know exactly what her act was but it must have been something awesome. I posted the drawing to my tumblr! You can find the address on my profile._

_._

_Windarian: Do you see her? _


	9. The Idea

Chapter 9: The Idea

.

I.

.

Quest walked warily, not wanting to go too far from the marketplace.

As she moved closer, she saw that the boy was tossing up painted balls; red, orange, yellow, green, blue: they were whirling so fast in his hands it looked like a rainbow.

As soon as Quest joined the small group watching, the red-haired boy threw the balls on the ground at his feet and took out five white plates, flinging them up in the air. They swooped high and came to rest in his hands.

Flawless.

Then he played with matches, flowers, a deck of cards. The hearts and diamonds slipped in and out of his skilled fingers like magic. Flipping, flying, cards crossing back, and running over it all was the boy's easy young voice: "You see there is nothing behind this card. Nothing in front, above or below? Observe. And – " and gold marbles came spitting out from the center, spilling into the bowl, and the group that was by now a large crowd broke into a thunder of applause.

The boy smiled, stars in his eyes, and bowed.

That seemed to signal the end of his act. The crowd began to disperse, and as they did his bowl garnered a small heap of coins. The boy picked it up and dropped the coins, one by one, into a leather bag, counting.

Quest watched him wrap up his plates and pull the _Amazing Bean _sign from the ground; she didn't notice him glancing up at her every now and again, half quizzically, half suspiciously; and only realized that she was still standing there gawping when he said, "Are you a market official? Because I know I don't need a license if I practice out in the street. They've told me before."

"Oh! No," said Quest, shaking her head and stepping back. "I'm not. I was just watching."

She started to walk away. He remarked, "But you don't live here, do you?"

"No," she said, turning. "But don't a great deal of the people in Dongun-Ar come from – somewhere else?"

"Yes," said the boy. "But then there are the others, who have never been here before; and it's _they_ who stare when a show is finished. Do you know where, exactly, you are?"

"N-o-o-o," said Quest, and she remembered Sashay, and his hand over hers, and how frantic he would be by now; and she thought, Here I am, watching a boy do card tricks!

She was about to turn back to the marketplace, but she watched the red-headed boy frowning over his bowl and counting over again; and she felt vaguely in her pockets for something to give him, because she had enjoyed his magic, after all.

All she found was the lone coin she had brought from the ship.

She hesitated a half-second.

I'm a daft fool, she thought; and then she called "Here," and tossed the coin to the boy before starting back up the street.

She had gone three paces when she heard his steps behind her, and his ragged breath. He was walking backwards, keeping pace next to her. "Wait," he said.

"What is it?" she replied, not stopping. "I really don't want to be rude, but I've lost someone; excuse me, please."

"You've lost someone, or they've lost you?" said the boy. "There's a difference, you know."

"I suppose it could go both ways, couldn't it?" said Quest, after brief consideration.

"That all depends whether you're on an equal plane," said the boy. "But if you're lost, I can help you."

Quest stopped. "You could?" she said slowly.

"Where did you come in?"

"From the docks, and – "

"Then you'll want to go to Crimsies; it's across, that way. You _have _gotten yourself lost, haven't you?" And while he spoke, he tugged at her arm and began walking at an alarming pace towards the marketplace.

She ran after him. "Crimsies?"

"The streets 'round the market are named after islands," he said.

"Wait, I – " Quest said no more, for suddenly they were among the mass, being churned like so many potatoes in a large stewpot; but she wasn't quite so nervous now, because she had weathered it before. The boy's blazing red hair could be seen like a beacon in front of her, and she kept a determined eye on it, staring for so long she began to see red spots dancing around the edge of her vision.

.

II.

.

He turned. "Are you hungry?" he shouted.

"Rather," she shouted back, though until now she hadn't noticed.

He nodded and suddenly gripped her arm, pulling her to the side, to a little white stall. It was covered with silver trays and tiers piled with sweetmeats, and the little lady behind it smiled brightly at the boy. "Brought a guest, Theodore?"

"Yes, Lady Oates. I didn't see Charlie today."

"He was feeling poorly," explained the lady, reaching under the counter and pulling out a large white box. There were cake squares powdered with caster sugar tucked neatly inside. The lady took a pair of delicate silver tongs and removed two squares from the box, handing them to Theodore and Quest.

The cake was soft and rich, and it turned to thick paste in Quest's mouth. She liked it.

"Thank you," she said.

Lady Oates began to reply, but Theodore had moved on already, and Quest had to jump after him. It was easier to follow him; a great many of the vendors seemed to know Theodore and would wave and make room for him as he and Quest passed by. He kept to the brick walls around the side, and in this way they moved round the marketplace, circling and crossing the street openings; and then Theodore had turned to the side, and was going down a lane.

"This is where I came in," said Quest.

"Yes," said the boy. "Do you want to go all the way to the docks, or wait here?"

"Well, I know my way back from here," said Quest, considering. "So I suppose I'll wait, and I can return to our ship if I want to."

"What ship is it?" said Theodore.

"The _Suzy_," replied Quest, smacking her lips and sighing. "That cake was extraordinary. What is it made from?"

"I don't know, exactly," said Theodore. "Chocoolay, or chocolate, or something. I forget the name. Where is the _Suzy _headed?"

Quest peered at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"You wouldn't happen to be looking for Dolly Maybe, would you?"

She stared. His expression was unreadable.

She narrowed her eyes. "You've been very helpful and nice, but I beg your pardon; what business is it of yours?"

Theodore only smiled. "An investment idea, if you will. Are you closely tied to this ship?"

"What do you mean?"

Theodore seemed to be thinking for a moment. "Well," he began slowly, "There isn't much in the street-performing business. Well, it's all right, but it can't be all there is, can it?"

"I still don't understand," said Quest.

"I'm very good at disguises," said the boy, seriously. "What would you say if, perhaps, two unknown pirates happened to sign up with Dolly's crew - and went to sea with the _Black Widow_?"

Understanding flashed.

Quest peered at him.

"And then these pirates happen to capture Dolly and her ship," said Theodore, "and claim the reward. They are both set up for life, with honor and prestige and fame, all that rot, you know."

"And how do you propose we would capture such a crew as Dolly's?" said Quest.

"I hadn't gotten that far yet," confessed Theodore.

"That's rather a large part of the whole idea," said Quest.

"Yes, I know," said the boy. "But think of it."

Quest thought of it. She thought, If this wild idea ever came off, think of Sashay's face.

But shouldn't my motive be to rid the seas of a scourge, she argued, and not to show up someone I'm not even enemies with?

Yes, she thought. But we can hardly force ourselves in these matters.

And behind all of her thoughts was the lurking reminder: Sashay trusted her now...

Just twenty-four hours ago she would have jumped at this idea. But now…she couldn't; she held Sashay's confidence; it would have been cheating him, even hurting him, to leave by herself now.

There was a part of her that ached to run wild, sea and sun and no promises, no ties, lingering done with, flying free and savage over the water – all on her own terms; but. There was that one thing holding her back. One person.

She could have wrung his neck for making her care.

.

_Elfine's Note: And the moral of the story is: Do someone a good turn, and they will invite you to be a pirate._


	10. The Painting

Chapter 10: The Painting

.

I.

.

She took a step backwards.

Theodore sighed placidly. "I knew you wouldn't want to, yet," he said.

"I do like the idea," said Quest. "I like it a great deal. But I can't."

"Hum," remarked Theodore. "I s'pose you have ties. Something to keep you. _I _don't."

"Shall you go it alone?"

"N-o-o," he answered sadly.

A short silence ensued.

Quest said, "How old are you, Theodore?"

"A dozen."

"Years you've spent doing…?"

"Life," said Theodore. "It's fairly easy, you know; just breathing in and out again."

"_Quest_!"

At the sound of her name, Quest whirled, scanning the marketplace. She could've sworn -

Before she knew what was happening Sashay had crushed her in his arms, nearly throttling the breath from her. Hands flailing, she tried to speak and failed - she finally managed to wriggle halfway out of his grasp and glanced up. His face was pale.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, not letting go.

"Trying to find you," she said.

"I've been worried out of my mind. _Why _did you let go – "

"I didn't do it purposefully," said Quest, rather perturbed. "In case you hadn't noticed, it's a bit crowded in there – "

"All the same – "

"Calm down, you goose." She slipped out of his arms and dusted herself off. "I'm all right. Theodore showed me the way back."

"Who's Theodore?" Sashay looked over her shoulder.

"He's just – " Quest turned, and stared around, trying to spot the boy; but his red hair was nowhere in sight. He had evidently decided the conversation was over and disappeared.

"He _was _here, anyway," she said. "He was doing magic tricks and I stopped to watch and he showed me the way back here."

"You can't trust random strangers!"

"But – " She stopped, suddenly understanding what Sashay was thinking. "He's twelve years old, Sashay. Hardly a ruffian, I should think."

"Oh," said Sashay, and frowned. "You can't really blame me for being worried, you know."

"I _know._"

Sashay humphed.

He looked forlorn, so Quest looped her arm through his and pointed to the crowd. "Where are Lucky and Joseph?"

"I saw them back at the fishmonger's." Sashay sounded a little easier in his mind, and he pressed her arm closer. "We could go there, or we could go back to the ship, if you like."

"Let's go back to the _Suzy_," said Quest. "I'm tired."

They began walking, up the street, under the stained glass patchwork. The air was quiet. A few birds swept by overhead.

"By the way," said Sashay. "Did you see or hear anything about the _Black Widow _or Dolly?"

Silence.

"No," said Quest, and they continued on their way.

.

II.

.

"Lace is fully conscious," said Shrimpy. "And in quite good spirits, too. I believe we have Willis to thank for that."

Willis, eating an apple at the ship's kitchen table, changed color and muttered something about doing nothing at all.

Sashay and Quest had gone to find supper in the larder and had found Willis already there. It appeared he, Shrimpy and Lace had had a rousing debate all morning about the various treatments for fever water, and Lace had won hands-down. "She's a spitfire," Shrimpy had said, nodding his head wisely. "Who'd have thought it, eh?"

Quest cut a piece of persimmon pie and began to eat it with her fingers. "What do you do, Willis?"

"What do I do?"

"I mean, what do you like to do? Carpentry? Or are you a chimney sweep, a stonecutter maybe?"

"Well, I've worked on ships my whole life. Being anything, really. The highest position I ever had was steersman."

"What are those paint smudges on your hands?"

Sashay chuckled. "Astute, Quest," he said.

Quest told him to be quiet.

"Iron Allen lent me his watercolors," said Willis, a little bashfully. "I – I suppose I paint, too. Not really anything good."

A general demand went up for the work to be shown, and ignoring Willis' protests the company trooped down the hall belowdecks to knock on Lace's door.

.

"He painted me," said Lace.

It wasn't necessary to know beforehand who the creature in the drawing was. It could be seen upon first glance. The pale wisps of hair flying about the forehead, the green eyes - upon closer scrutiny Quest saw that Willis had used not just green in Lace's eyes, but blue above the pupil and yellow where the light was hitting, with a speck of white like a star in the darkest shadows. Somehow, with her eyes, with a movement of the brush in the shape of her nose and the lines of the long arms, Willis had captured Lace's smile and tears and essence, all together.

And then Quest tilted her head and looked again, and read something else in the painting.

Something was lurking in the brushstrokes; it had seeped into the paint and the very structure of the portrait - and Quest glanced up and caught Willis' eyes, and knew she was right; and his level gaze said _You know, then; please don't say anything._

And Quest folded the cover back and said softly, "It's very beautiful."

"It's fascinating the way it looks like me, doesn't it?" Lace took it and opened the book to her portrait again. "I asked him to do more – I'm the only one who has any time to pose, but he doesn't like painting me."

"I didn't say that," protested Willis. "I said I get distracted."

"But I could be Helen, or Artemis and wear a helmet, and he could sell his pictures and get disgustingly rich and I'd be his muse and take half of everything. You're ruining my plans, Will."

Quest stared at Lace. Who was this new person, alive and chattering away like - like she hadn't been speaking half-legible sentences in her sleep not two days before? She was such a far cry from the former muttering wraith, Quest's mouth nearly hung open.

"You _could _make quite a tidy sum if you sold some of these," said Sashay, looking them over.

"I guess you're an authority on art," murmured Quest, frowning at the picture.

"Think you're clever. No, of course not. I just know what Dongun-Ar people like to buy, and they like color and life, and that's what I see here." Sashay prodded Quest's shoulder. "So you can put that in your pipe and smoke it."

Willis twirled the paintbrush in his hands and said slowly, "I could just sit, you know, outside of the market - and draw people. For a sum."

"Or better yet," exclaimed Quest, "There is that circus – what's it called? – Something with Stars. I suppose all kinds of people will be there, and it won't be so crowded. And it would give you atmosphere – an aura of the unknown."

Sashay scoffed.

"I like the idea," said Lace.

"Agreed," said Quest smugly, and sat on the bed, listening as Shrimpy outlined financial advice. Idly, she put her hand in the pocket of her jacket.

She knew her coin wouldn't be there anymore; of course, she had given it to Theodore. But she hadn't expected to find anything else there either; and as she shifted her hand, she felt the corner of something.

Her fingers closed around it. It was a piece of paper.

She slipped out of the door into the hallway; the others didn't notice, or didn't seem to, and she unfolded the paper and read the words on it. It was a rather dirty piece of blue parchment, and the writing was small and peculiar:

_Don't forget about pirates._

_T. Bean_

.

END OF PART ONE

.

_Elfine's Note: I need a leetle help with this chapter. The flow of this particular installment seems to be missing something and I can't put my finger on it. Suggestions, anyone?_

_Meanwhile, I love I-thought-I-lost-you reunions. They are so cute. So are Lace and Willis. At the risk of sounding pretentious, they ought to be Potential Couple of the Year. Bonus! I have finally worked out a posting plan – a chapter every one-two weeks. Eh? _

_Elfine's Note No. 2: IMPORTANT! _Desperado _is going on temporary hiatus while I post a novella (fancy-schmancy word for "longer than a short story and shorter than a long story") entitled_ Springwild, _about a fairy. Publishing will begin on Sunday and I shall update it every other day. If you like purple-drenched passages, please read it; I have very much loved writing it. Thank you!__  
_


	11. The Green

Chapter 11: The Green

.

I.

.

It was a wholly enchanted place at night, the Green.

A sprawling field, the grass uncut between where dark gold tents flattened it out, surrounded on the outside by forest and then sea, dotted on the inside with all manner of stages and stalls.

Quest had expected it to be like the Marketplace in this respect, with the same sellers and buyers and wares; but it was entirely different. Where the market had been lit and crowded, the Merry Company Circus was darkly eerie, with lights fizzing and popping, like tiny fireworks, inside glass dome-and-pole structures planted sparsely along the path. The path itself trailed off in endless directions. It was set out clearly; but Quest would not have been able to tell, for the life of her, how she knew where it started and stopped.

Dark was everywhere. Blue darkness, accented with the golden tents and the twinkling of the lights. People moved in awed murmuring droves between them, going in and coming out. They ran and they laughed and they swung and cackled. A young man twined flowers around his sweetheart's hair as an old couple wandered by, hand in gnarled hand. Here was not the frenetic pace of the market. It was slow, delicious, and peaceful; and altogether magic, in a dark and strange way.

A hand tapped her shoulder, and Sashay said, "We're helping Willis set up, Quest."

They had chosen a corner near the entrance, but not too near. As Lace had pointed out, Willis should be noticed, but the subject oughtn't feel like they were being held back from seeing the rest of the circus.

He had a small easel and a stack of clean white paper, thick, for the watercolors. Before they had even finished putting together his workstation a small line of interested circus goers had formed, and Quest and Sashay decided to leave, to give Willis more room. Lace opted to stay with him, and she sat in the long grass and began braiding it into bracelets. She said, cryptically, that she had seen enough of circuses before.

"Whatever that means," said Sashay, perusing a display of ornate compasses. There were, surprisingly, very few displays of any kind. The tents held signs quietly telling what was within; no garish colors or huge announcements, as they had used for advertisement. Just "TEA ROOM", "HAPPENINGS ROOM", "GLASS RIDDLES AND DREAMS", and so forth.

Unexpectedly, Sashay looped his arm through Quest's and they strolled through the tents arm in arm. She thought it was the same as when he had taken her hand, back in the Marketplace; just a way to stay together. But he offered no such explanation.

She decided not to ask for one.

.

II.

.

They ducked through the entrance of the HAPPENINGS tent, finding it dimly glowing. It was filled with shelves, smoke, and dust swimming through the candlelight. The shelves were covered with small china pots and porcelain bottles and labeled, oddly, "Places" and "Feelings". Sashay moved to one shelf and Quest to another, and she opened a Places bottle and inhaled the sharp scent that escaped.

Instantly, she was standing between a great roaring fireplace in a cavernous hall, with snow howling outside tall diamond-paned windows and a banquet set out on a long table. The smell was everywhere – spicy and sweet, like ham glaze, and cinnamon.

The bottle was still in her hands and she put in the stopper. In a second the fire, banquet, and snow all vanished around her.

So that was what was contained in all these pots and flasks – experience soporifics, bottled happenings.

Another, from the Feelings shelf, smelled of wildflowers and meadow; and Quest was alarmed by the sudden feel of someone kissing her cheek and putting their arm around her shoulder. She quickly capped the flagon, flushing, and decided not to risk another Feeling bottle.

"They come from all over the world," said a voice beside her, and Quest turned to see a tall woman, dark-skinned and with a mass of wild curls tucked and twisted around a colorful scarf over her head.

"You mean, these are actual people's real experiences?" said Quest.

The woman's mouth twitched in amusement. "Real as life," she replied, straightening pots on the shelf. Her voice was accented with something foreign. "Some are more elaborate than others."

"How do you come by them?" said Sashay, coming up next to Quest.

The woman shrugged. "A scent, a melody can bring back memories in an instant. I simply take this and bring the memory deeper and fuller. Someone comes in with a specific feeling they want to keep forever, I put it in two vessels; one for them, one to remain here to be sold."

Quest said, "That's what it costs?"

"Sounds pretty costly to me," said Sashay, "sharing private feelings with strangers."

Quest thought of the wildflowers and silently agreed.

"I have only so many experiences I can take from myself," said the woman, shrugging again. "I draw memories from people all over the world, from every walk of life. Diversity is key. My business is flourishing excellently." She smiled at them both and, beckoning, went behind the counter. She took an empty bottle and said to Quest, "What is one of your happiest memories?"

Before she could stop herself, Quest's mind flashed back; back to rolling blue water, and smooth worn deck beneath her, and a pair of hands sweeping her up; a deep laugh and black beard above her, and the smell of salt spray and her father's jacket.

"Wait!" she cried, but the woman had hold of something bright between her fingers, and she was stuffing it in the bottle and pouring something clear and bright over it. Before Quest could protest again, the woman held her hand to her lips and said, "I am making only one, for you. You need it."

Quest watched, fascinated, as she corked the bottle and affixed a yellow label to the neck.

"What does the yellow mean?"

"It means there is but one in the world." The woman handed it to Quest, who thanked her.

"Now you," said the woman, crooking her finger at Sashay. "What is one of _your _happiest memories?"

"Mine?" stammered Sashay, with the same alarmed look Quest had felt on herself; and whatever his mind had flashed to unbidden, the woman had it between her hands in a second, and she collected it in a small blue vial with another yellow label.

.

After they thanked her, they each tried other Experiences; there was a silent winter wood, a tiny library and hot tea, and a party in full swing with dancing and a twinkling, glinting, gleaming chandelier.

As they were finally leaving the tent, the woman suddenly whispered in Quest's ear: "This is one of his happiest memories."

"What?" said Quest, startled, but the woman was rubbing her fingers and blowing something that looked like stardust, the remains of Sashay's memory, on her hands toward Quest's face; and suddenly before her eyes and all around her, Quest saw herself. Her nose and smile. Her hands and her eyes and Quest, everywhere, walking and laughing and living -

- in another moment the air was cleared and there was only the woman, her dark wise face giving away nothing, and Sashay behind her, saying "Are you all right, Quest?"

"Yes," Quest said, in a small voice.

She suddenly felt how very much taller he was, and how nice he smelled, like pine needles and sea and Sashay.

As they walked away, she realized she had forgotten to ask the woman's name.

.

III.

.

They wandered from tent to tent, looking at this and that. There was paper that tasted deliciously like the picture printed on it and paintings that moved, dancers, contortionists and even trained dragons.

The sky was glittering with stars, fizzing like the lights in the glass. Quest looked from the stars to the lights, and to the stars again; and for a moment she could not tell which was which.

.

_Elfine's Note: Hey! I'm aliiiive! I have no excuses to give, but posting will hereafter continue as usual. I've missed you all :)_


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